Taming a heart you know
by Persephone Summerwick
Summary: The sheriff tells his son what he thinks about the strawberry blonde in his life after he witnesses them get into an argument.


Lydia had stopped by the Stilinski household to deliver some research she'd done on the latest big scary ritually killing the unsuspecting citizens of Beacon Hills. It had taken hours of scoring the internet and ultimately tearing through bookshelves to find what she was looking for, but with her large brain and ability to translate Latin text she was printing out several pages of information to distribute among the members of the pack in no time. She was going to wait until school tomorrow to give them anything, but Stiles insisted she come over and go over everything she found out with him immediately.

He promised to double check her work and look over what he called the "tricky wording" just to be sure it meant exactly what it said. Ancient text had a habit of being cryptic and difficult to comprehend, but Lydia had rolled her eyes and been a little insulted at the insinuation that she could've gotten any of the information wrong. But he was relentless, so she caved.

She felt comfortable enough waltzing in without knocking, which she didn't even realize until she was on her way back out. Thankfully, neither Stiles nor his father seemed to mind or even notice for that matter.

The sheriff's eyebrows lifted at the sight of her, a mug of something steaming held in his hands. "Lydia," he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were coming over for dinner, I would've actually ordered something." He laughs shortly. "We have hot pockets?"

"Oh that's okay; I'm just here to drop this off." She passes the manila folder into Stiles' free hand, the other occupied by a bowl of fruit loops and milk poured a little too high.

"Drop it off," Stiles restates, though it sounds more like a question. "I thought we were going to go over it together," he puckers pouty lips at her.

She almost thinks it's because he wants to spend time with her and her heart begins to swell, but then he flaps his mouth again.

"That way I can correct you to your face in the smuggest expression I can possibly muster up." All the while enjoying his own petulance and the way it irritates her, he places the folder on the end table beside the couch so that he can force a spoonful of sugar between his lips once more. The milk dribbles to his chin and Lydia physically revolts. Stiles revels in it.

"You're on your own little piggy," she moves onto her toes to mockingly bop him on the nose with a single manicured finger. "Report back to me tomorrow morning before the first bell," she instructs leaving no room for argument. "I mean it this time, _don't_ get all distracted by your girlfriend and her coyote lips." Her face wrinkles, clearly bothered by the memory. He was too irresponsible when he had a girlfriend, and Lydia was sick of it. Not only that, but it was like she didn't exist anymore. That was more annoying than anything.

"Fine," Stiles grumbles, setting his jaw. "You're only hating on me because _you're_ the single one now."

Lydia lifts a delicate eyebrow, a clear warning. When her hands move to her hips, Stiles knows he's in deep water, but he still doesn't want to back down. "_Excuse me_?"

He decides to test her limits, to push her just a little bit, if only because she kept shoving him first. "Scott has Kira, Derek has Braeden and I have Malia. For the first time ever you're not in a relationship and you're taking it out on Malia. You've been really snippy with her." His volume gets just a little bit louder when he brings his girlfriend into it and Lydia sees that plain as day.

"You're blind," Lydia scowls. Her eyes flicker over to his father, who is awkwardly pretending to text where he sits at the table none too far from them. She'd almost forgotten he was there, and immediately reddens. If she didn't see the man as a maternal figure, it would be even more awkward than it already was.

Stiles recognizes their mistake right after she does. He clears his throat along with the quiet tension. "Thanks for stopping by," he says lowly, bitterly.

Lydia narrows her eyes dangerously. "You're welcome," she shoots back with an ounce more attitude. "I didn't have to bring that over tonight but I did. As a favor to you." she sucks the inside of her cheeks further into her mouth to gnaw on them. "So don't be such an ass."

She makes a quick escape after that, managing a barely there "goodbye" to the sheriff and shambling out the door.

Stiles stands there for a moment before he sighs dramatically, collapsing into the cushion of the couch and going right back to eating his cereal with just a bit more rigidity than before. He can tell that his father wants to say something and he's probably going to. He can see it's on the tip of his tongue in the way his mouth partly opens and then shuts in a mantra, trying to figure out how to word whatever it is he wants to say without offending his only son.

"What is it, dad?" He doesn't want to hear it but they might as well get it out in the open.

Sheriff Stilinski blows air through his teeth, taking his coffee and freeing himself from the table to make his way over to Stiles. "You don't give that girl enough credit."

Stiles taps his thumb rhythmically against the glass of the bowl. He shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows, not understanding. "Come again?"

"Lydia is a seventeen year old girl that risks her life everyday just to make this town a little safer."

"Yeah so am I, dad," he says poignantly. "Except for the being a girl part…"

"Okay, but did you just spend seven hours in a library translating an ancient language?"

"No but –,"

His father is quick to cut in. "_No._ You haven't. You've been sitting on this couch watching cartoons and texting Scott pictures of animals with hats."

Stiles smirks at the memory.

"Just think about what that girl has been through Stiles!" He shakes his head as if the thought is too much. "Horrible hallucinations, voices and images that she can't control, finding dead bodies and hearing people cry out to her that she can't help. She lost all of her friends because everyone thinks she's crazy and then she lost her _best_ friend because something killed her."

The teenager winces at the fresh wound of Allison's demise, but he's considering his father's words.

"And even through all of that she still wants to try to save people, she's still a genius with a 4.0 and she's strong as hell."

"She has a 5.0," Stiles declares quietly, his eyes making contact with the floor shamefully.

His father stares off toward the wall but really he isn't seeing it there. He's somewhere in the distance, lost in his deep thoughts but still faraway. "She reminds me of your mother."

Stiles entire form freezes and ice runs into his veins. The hair on his arms stands on end and he's only still until it causes him to physically shiver. He can feel the weight of his father lift from the couch as he leaves the room, but he hasn't really processed it.

Lydia reminded his dad of his _mom?_

He'd definitely never said anything even remotely close to that about anybody, not ever. It was the biggest compliment he'd never handed out and Stiles still couldn't believe he actually said it. It wasn't often that they talked about his mom, and even then it was never something as simple as a passing comment where he'd compare her to someone else. His mom was too special to be like anyone else.

Stiles could feel his heart pounding into his ribs and he wasn't even sure why. It wasn't that big of a deal really, but it was still kind of a huge one and he couldn't wrap his head around it.

Maybe Lydia was kind of like his mother. They were both beautiful strawberry haired intelligent women that felt the need to reassure those closest to them and remind them of their worth. They both liked the color green, smiling and wholeheartedly taunting the men in their lives.

Claudia Stilinski would've died for a good cause and Lydia Martin would too.

It's only a second later that Stiles finds himself smiling.

It's a second after that when he decides to hop in his car.


End file.
